


The Tale of Blue Ben

by flypaper_brain



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: ASK ME ABOUT THE BACKSTORY, Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Angst with a Happy Ending, Castles, Dragons, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Goats, Happy Ending, Human Rey, Hurt/Comfort, Language of Flowers, Magic Doesn't Have To Be Explained, Memory Loss, Not Like That, Rey Riding Kylo, Rey should get an A+ in Herbology, Reylo - Freeform, Spells & Enchantments, Surprise Characters - Freeform, They're FLYING, Witches, Wizards, and please keep in mind, but I'll do my best to try...., dragon kylo, it is Extensive
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-01
Updated: 2019-01-01
Packaged: 2019-09-23 07:44:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,355
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flypaper_brain/pseuds/flypaper_brain
Summary: Some escaped goats and a chance encounter land Rey in the middle of a fairy tale.  She is the happy ending.  And she is not alone.





	The Tale of Blue Ben

**Author's Note:**

  * For [La_Catrina](https://archiveofourown.org/users/La_Catrina/gifts).



> This story is for La_Catrina, whose list of prompts was absolutely delightful:
> 
>  
> 
> _1) I really enjoy reading about Force lore stuff, be it holocrons, jedi temples, weird places strong with the force. So it’d be cool to see Rey and Kylo Ren/Ben teaming up and exploring one of these together. The manner in which they do so can be up to you, it can be postwar, or it can be Kylo Ren following Rey after the Bond shows him where she’s heading, etc._
> 
>  
> 
> _2) Witch!Rey finds a gravely wounded wolf along the borders of her territory, and, decides to try and save it, unaware that it’s actually a werewolf. She gets quite the surprise when she realizes the large animal she was tending to turns out to be a rather large and moody man. Bonus: Kylo/Ben is touch starved and has to resist being affectionate after Rey’s kindness to him in wolf form_
> 
>  
> 
> _3) Fantasy Dragon AU: Kylo/Ben comes from a long line of Dragon Riders and his proffiency in battle alongside his dragon is well known. Rey is a peasant who stumbles across a dragon egg and unknowingly bonds with it when it hatches. Despite her lack of formal training, her and her dragon are a formidable team. Kylo/Ben tries to convince her to join his Knights, but she prefers remaining solo. Bonus points if at first their dragons dislike the others human, but end up exceptionally very affectionate._
> 
>  
> 
> I ended up combining #2 and #3 because I fell completely in love with the idea of Kylo as a sort of were-dragon and Rey as the witch who helps him. I hope you enjoy this little fairy tale. ❤

It began in a vegetable garden; and it would end there too.  It started with a foolish young man, and a woman, as these things so often do. But the woman in question wasn’t just any woman, of course; she was a witch (wasn’t that just the way?).  She wasn’t an _evil_ witch, but a benevolent one, a healer and herb-woman who helped the village folk when she could.  

 

He, for his part, was the local lord’s nephew, arrogant and vain, too used to getting his way; but underneath it all, good at heart (if a bit clueless, truth be told).  All he and his companions cared about was the pursuit of the fox; and they would let nothing stand in their way, least of all this old peasant woman and her paltry excuse for a garden.  The young man pulled a gold ring, one of many he wore on a typical day, off his finger and tossed it into the trampled mess behind him, as though a cold hunk of metal would erase what he’d done.   Little did they know that they’d chosen the wrong woman to cross, on the wrong day. And he’d chosen the wrong ring.

 

The old woman was very familiar with this set of young men, and she didn’t think much of them or their entitled attitudes.  She’d been gathering herbs to dry in her shed, so she could use them later. When she marched out of the shed and saw what had happened to the rest of her prized herbs and produce, she let her fury get the better of her.  She picked up the ring, eyeing it with derision, and let it fall back to the earth of what had been her garden; and then proceeded to unleash a curse on the spoiled young nobleman.

 

She’d only meant to teach him a lesson; some time as a lizard would do him a world of good.  It was hard to feel superior when you were a skink. She’d waved her hand in the prescribed manner, thrown a few pinches of herbs, and pronounced her curse:   “Best you learn how to weigh and value things; scales to you!”, in her best magical tone. There in the dirt, the spell of protection and blessing (“May you always remember who you are, with the heart and strength of a dragon.”) that another, less overt, witch had added to the ring when it was given to the young man upon his birth HEARD the words of the curse.  Discarded, the spell in the ring did its best to protect him; but no one can predict the way two powerful women’s spells will mingle with each other.

 

No one was more surprised than our witch, when instead of the common garden lizard she’d intended, a dragon larger than her house appeared in the air over his now very frightened horse.  Not being very familiar with flight, he made a spectacular and messy landing in the pumpkin patch, covering the onlookers in orange mush. He settled for running, fleeing into the nearby woods, large, armored tail tucked between his bowed, scaly legs.

 

She followed him, of course, this wasn’t at all what she’d had in mind; but first, she went into the cottage for The Book.  The Book had been passed down from mother to daughter for hundreds of years, and it included the collected wisdom of her ancestors; magic spells, gardening tips, and a few really excellent recipes.  Perhaps there was something in The Book’s pages that would help her remedy this situation.

 

He wasn’t hard to find.  He was also unaccustomed to hiding such a large body, and had managed to get himself mired in the mud.  When you were as heavy as he must be, you sank right to the bottom. A pair of remarkably human eyes, a larger version of what they’d been, were blinking at her in confusion and fear.  She reached out to touch his snout, trying to show him that she meant no harm; well, no further harm. She hoped he could understand her as she told him she was really very sorry about all this, and it wasn’t at all what she’d meant.  “I only meant to turn you into a skink for a few minutes; you know, to teach you a lesson.”

 

This pronouncement was greeted with a snort (and a wisp of smoke that seemed to come as a surprise to him), which she took to mean that he understood her.   He tried to respond, as though with speech; but a jet of flame shot out of his mouth instead. The resulting panic only dug him deeper into the mire.

 

Consulting the book, she found a spell she remembered.  Granny had called it a Spell of Returning; that had to be right, didn’t it? A pinch of rosemary, she had that in her pocket, a beckoning gesture, and “Return to what has been!” was all it needed.  The spell worked, in that it returned her safely to her own home. Sadly, that did nothing for the dragon. She trudged back to the mud-flats with a sigh, wishing Granny had been somewhat more specific.

 

The rest of the afternoon went more or less the same way, as did the next day, and the next.  Eventually they fell into a routine. “Good morning!”, followed by several attempts to fix this mess.  After a week or so, she found a spell called Homecoming. She’d picked a few forget-me-nots, pressed her hands to her heart as the spell said she should, and said the words;  “May you always find home.” This had mixed results. The good news was, the dragon was no longer stuck in the mud. The bad news, was she had no idea where he’d gone. She decided to call the day a success and went home.

 

His location became apparent when a plume of smoke appeared over the sea.  There was really no other plausible reason for that. Gathering the herbs and supplies she might need in a bag, she set out for the shore.  It was bound to be a longer trip this time, so she also packed a lunch. Home turned out to be a cave near the waterline; where a very shamefaced dragon appeared to be eating some extremely crispy seagulls.  He ducked his head as she came in, as though he expected to be scolded; but she didn’t have the heart.

 

She sat down next to him and unpacked her lunch; she might as well join him, even if their meals were very different.  “I’m still working on changing you back. I’ll keep working until you’re back to yourself or I’ve grown old and died, whichever comes first.  I want you to know that I won’t give up on it. And I’m writing this in The Book, your story, so my someday daughters and their daughters can keep trying until you’re restored to your true and proper self.”   He looked somewhat comforted by what she’d said, at least she thought he did; but resigned to his current state.

 

She kept her word, until the end of her life.  She visited him faithfully, once a week, while regular, god-fearing and dragon-fearing folk were on their way to church; and when her daughter came in time, she brought her along, introducing her to the dragon, who blew smoke rings for her and let her catch her faltering baby steps on his clawed feet. The ring, and the spell, slumbered in the earth, forgotten by all (a terrible fate, for a spell of remembrance).   Her daughter was faithful as well; until one day her daughter’s daughter’s...well, you get the idea, arrived at the cave to find that no one was there. She waited, and waited, and visited every week; and she told her daughters to go and wait as well; but he never returned.

 

They heard, these daughters and daughters’ daughters, that a dragon had come to prey on the kingdom, far and away from where they lived; but they knew it couldn’t be him.  He would never do such a thing. They waited, patiently, for their own dragon to return; and between sickness and death, arguments and family, as happens, in the centuries to come they’d forgotten why they’d originally been going to the cave at all.  It was simply an odd cave, by the water, with a carving scratched into the wall; a picture of a sad young man.

 

…

 

Rey’s hands were sunk up to the wrist in the rich earth of the vegetable garden when she heard the unmistakable sound of the goats escaping their pen...AGAIN.  She’d added a bell to the gate so she’d know when they made an attempt, and it was ringing. She sighed, and rushed to finish harvesting the last of the carrots.  The last carrot was large and strangely man-shaped, down to some sort of gold collar where the “neck” would be.

 

Forgetting the furry fugitives for now, she took the carrot in both of her hands, murmured an apology for no good reason, and decapitated the root vegetable with a *snap*.  Its “necklace” fell into her lap; she picked it up and brushed it clean on her skirt. As the soil fell away, she could see a blue stone with an intricate carving of a dragon; it was so detailed that she could almost count the scales.  The only flaw, if you could call it that, was a vein of something gold that ran through the stone and across the dragon’s snout down onto its breast; but the blemish only added to its beauty in her eyes. She found that her fingers were tingling.

 

She was reminded of the escape in progress by some loud bleats and an almighty crash; pocketing the ring, she ran toward the noise.  She managed to get the majority of her five animals back in the pen, but two of them were still missing; and she knew exactly which two.  These particular goats were an enormous pain in the neck; extremely affectionate, but troublemakers to the bone. They’d never produced any offspring in all the time since she’d inherited them from her granny; which, considering, was an awfully long time ago.  Granny had told her she was to keep them always and keep them safe. The reason behind this remained a mystery, but Rey had learned early in life not to question her Granny, and she saw no reason to change that now.

 

She knew exactly where they were headed, too; to the rose garden that made up the border between her home and the estate next door.  This was the pride and joy of the noble family who owned the estate, and they did NOT appreciate the rampages of her rambunctious livestock.  Rey ran after the triumphant bleating and tried to get between them and their intended goal, without success. They were happily devouring the blooms as she reached them; Thunder looked up at her without a shred of remorse, yellow petals falling out the side of his mouth.  Flower at least had the good grace to pretend to look ashamed.

 

The ginger-haired young lord training on the other side of the hedge, however, looked apoplectic as he noticed the destruction of his flowers.  He was the last of his line, and his pride in the rose-bushes his late mother had tended was well-known in these parts. He came charging toward her property line, drawing his sword, shouting that this was “...the LAST time those menaces damage my property, and THIS is the LAST thing they’re going to see!”  He waved the weapon at Rey and the goats both.

 

Thunder and Flower seemed to know exactly what was in store for them; they took off into the dense woods behind both properties in a hurry.  The angry knight, face scarlet, pursued them with sword in hand. Rey had walked these woods all her life, gathering mushrooms and herbs; she ran nimbly and easily between the trees.  The knight was not so lucky, or skilled; there was a lot of cursing and thrashing and getting caught up on branches. Rey was first to reach the edge of the woods and break out into the mudflats, where she found a very subdued pair of goats stuck firmly in the muck.  

 

Goats could pout, as it happened; Thunder definitely was, anyway.  Flower was no longer pretending to be ashamed, and the normally cheerful tilt of her ears had given way to a sad droop.  Their struggles were only sinking them deeper into the pudding-like mud, and there was no way that Rey could dig them free with what she had on her (nothing!) before their pursuer reached them with the scary sharp object HE was carrying.  

 

“That is ENOUGH of those two; I’ll butcher them on the spot and have them for supper!  I’m sure Cook can make something edible out of them, let’s find out, shall we? Now, MOVE,” he shouted at her.

 

The only option left to her was to stand between them and danger.  “If you want them, you’ll have to go through me!” He seemed to think that was just fine, and raised his blade.

 

Rey closed her eyes, dropped into a crouch, and spread her arms to get more of her between the sword and the goats.  Footsteps stumbled toward her; there was a truly vile curse and the feeling of something passing over her. A deep roar, almost like the crash of thunder or the sound of the sea, came from behind Rey.  It was full of pain and outrage.

 

She heard a strangled shout that must have been the knight:  “WHA--”. It was quickly cut off as a wash of heat passed over her head.  The shout turned into a high-pitched shriek, which was just as quickly terminated.  She was not looking forward to seeing the reason behind these noises, but she reluctantly opened her eyes.  There was a suit of armor and a sword, both very sooty, where the knight had been, and a suspicious pile of ash.

 

She slowly turned her head to see where the heat had come from, to find herself looking into a pair of very large honey-brown eyes.  What had, at first sight, appeared to be an innocuous mound of mud shifted slightly to reveal a sizeable, scaly black snout; and it was bleeding.  The knight’s sword had carved a path clear across the head, barely missing one of those eyes.

 

It wasn’t immediately clear what the rest of the creature might be; but the smoke drifting from the enormous nostrils did shed some light on the source of the heat, and the reason for the pile of ash where her neighbor used to be.  Rey thought about raising her hands in surrender, but it was pretty obvious that whatever this thing was, it had meant to protect her. It could only have been a deliberate choice on its part to miss both her and the goats.

 

“Errr...hello.  Are you quite all right?”  The etiquette of talking to...whatever this was, wasn’t exactly clear, but it seemed only proper to say something.  “Thank you.”

 

_You’re welcome._

 

The reply seemed to have bypassed her ears and gone straight into her head; her head translated it as a deep, resonant, but somehow gentle growl that shook her bones a little.

 

“Oh.  I’ve lost my mind, how nice.  I’m seeing things that obviously don’t exist, hearing a giant beast in my mind, and it appears to have vaporized my neighbor.  Lovely.” She continued talking to no one as she started to excavate the goats, using the handy sword to lever them out of the muck.

 

_You heard me?  No one ever hears me.  How can you hear me? Can they hear me too?  Why are you here? Who are you? Don’t go...please don’t leave me...please…._

 

The voice in her mind was sad, and desperate.

 

It was just a bit too much.  Rey sat down exactly where she was, in the churned mud next to Thunder and Flower, and contemplated the increasing strangeness of this day.  Eyes closed, face in her hands, she devoutly hoped that the large eyes and the sad voice might have disappeared before she looked around again.

 

No such luck.

 

The large, honey-brown eyes were still there, looking at her as though she were the only light in a dark world.  The voice was still there too.

 

_Hello? Can you still hear me?  Please say something. Anything.  I just want to hear a voice, talking to me._

 

If the voice had been real, it would have sounded as though its owner were on the edge of tears.

 

There was no resisting that.  “Err, yes, I’m still here. I can still hear you.  I’m just sort of wondering what to do next. This is not my usual kind of day.  This may seem slightly rude, but...what are you?” Were the owners of large, sad eyes and scaly snouts easily offended?

 

_I’m a monster.  Can’t you tell?_

 

“Well, wouldn’t a monster have eaten me by now?  And them too?” She indicated the goats with a jerk of her head.  “I mean, you saved us; that was on purpose, right? Not very monstrous of you, was it?”  She tried a smile; it wasn’t working very well right now, but she tried it anyway. Did he need help with that wound?  He hadn’t mentioned it.

 

Behind her, the goats were visibly trembling.  They seemed to think they might still be on the menu.  She couldn’t really blame them.

 

_You put yourself between them and the danger.  Why did you do that? You could have been killed._

 

He hadn’t answered her question, except with a question of his own.

 

“Because I care about them, and it’s my job to protect them.  You protect the people you care about; or the goats, I guess.”  She glared at the two of them. “No matter how hard they try to get themselves killed.”  Thunder and Flower ducked their heads.

 

_Then that’s why I did that; to protect you, I think.  I didn’t really remember why someone would do that, until you reminded me._ He sounded confused, and a little lost.

 

“Oh.  Well, thank you.  Again.” She stepped back to take her first good look at him; at least, the bits she could see.  “Do, um...you have a name?”

 

_They called me Kylo.  It’s as good a name as any.  What do they call you?_

 

There was something in his voice when he said his name; it didn’t make him happy.

 

“My name is Rhian, but I’m called Rey.  These two fools are Thunder, and Flower.” She sent another glare their way.  “I don’t think they can understand you, or they’d be considerably more grateful.”

 

There was the sound of someone clearing their throat, in her head.   _I’m glad you’re here.  Will you stay?_

 

The voice was hopeful.

 

“I...do you live here, in the forest?”  He still hadn’t answered the question. “Are you...what manner of creature are you?”  There was no answer in her mind; but the scaly snout drew closer on the end of a serpentine neck as the beast stretched.  It struggled, there in the mud, but all that emerged were a large pair of bat-like wings and a length of tail about...fifteen yards away from the eyes. Rey’s eyes widened as her hand drifted into her pocket, recalling an image she’d seen earlier today that was beginning to look very familiar.  She ran her thumb over the carving, but left the ring in her pocket. “Are you...a dragon?”

 

_I am now.  I think I used to be something else, but I can’t quite remember what it was.  Can you help me? I feel like maybe you can._

 

Hope and fear were equal now.  What type of help could she offer here?  She sat back and puzzled, chin in her hands.

 

“I don’t know what I can do, but I can definitely try.  What do you need?”

 

His tone was faintly embarrassed this time. 

 

_I’m…. stuck._

 

“Oh dear!  Are you hurt?”

 

The great head swung back and forth. 

 

_No, I’m not hurt.  Just….stuck._

 

“How long have you…how did you...?  Never mind.” She took a minute to consider the very large problem.  “How are we going to get you out of there?”

 

_It’s probably not possible.  This mud is so powerful, it feels like it’s been cursed._

 

That wasn’t exactly right; the knowledge that it was cursed, that *he* was cursed, was known to him.  He was tied to the water in this mud. He’d been stuck there for months, almost hoping to sink to the bottom and be consumed in it, just so the pain and loneliness would be over.  He snorted, as though to shake himself loose of negative thoughts that didn’t belong in the present moment. Now Rey was here, and offering to help him. Now was a time when things were happening.

 

She frowned at him.  “Don’t be ridiculous. It’s just mud, and you’re...you're a dragon; you must be enormously strong.  There has to be a _reason_ you can’t get yourself out.  There must be a solution; it doesn’t make any sense….Things are supposed to make sense.”  

 

His wings were huge, and they looked powerful; that wasn’t the problem.   His legs...were not visible at all. THAT must be the problem. But...dragonish anatomy wasn’t exactly...did he HAVE legs?  Was he supposed to have legs? How exactly did one tactfully ask that question? How did you do that without offending him or making him feel foolish for being stuck in the first place?

 

She decided on vagueness, and permission.  “May I have a closer look at...how you’re stuck?”  

 

_You may do whatever you deem necessary.  I...trust you._

 

There was a lot of very unpleasant-sounding squelching around in the mud; but at the end of it, it was a relief to discover that he did indeed have legs.

 

She had to speak a bit louder now, since she was nowhere near his head.  “I’m going to reach in and check whether anything is wrapped around your legs.  I don’t believe in cursed mud, but I do know how strong the vines and creepers in these woods can be.  Maybe you’re all...tied up, and you can’t feel it? Please tell me if I do anything that hurts you.”

 

Bracing herself against him and keeping one hand on his side, Rey reached very gently under the mud with the other.  She felt along the scales, which were warmer and more...supple than she’d expected. She was surprised, too, to find that his leg wasn’t much bigger than her own arm.  It felt weaker than she would have thought; the skin was soft and the scales smaller as she came to the joint, the “armpit”? He shifted and shuddered a bit; in her mind was something that might have been an uncomfortable chuckle. His talons, in contrast, were long and sharp and must be very efficient.

 

Rey had spent a lifetime puzzling out how things worked; it was just how she was made studying the world around her.  Birds needed proper positioning to take off when they wanted to fly; why should he be any different? He might need to run a short distance, or sort of jump; and he couldn’t do either of those in this predicament.  There didn’t seem to be any vines or other obstacles, so it should be relatively easy to excavate him. She would need to check his other legs, of course, first she needed to be sure he wasn't in any pain from her attentions.  Before she could open her mouth to inquire, Kylo's voice bloomed in her head and answered her unspoken question, his tone a bit more relaxed than before.

 

_You’re not hurting me at all.  Thank you for trying to help me._  

 

It was the first time in centuries that someone had touched him with gentleness.  His sighs tended to be a little flammable, though; so he stayed as still, inside and outside his mind, as he possibly could under the circumstances.  Dim impressions, of a time when he could be touched and touch in return, made that very, very difficult. It was just as well that Rey was concentrating too hard on the mechanical problem at hand to notice his inner turmoil.  She wasn’t just freeing him from the mud, she was bringing him to life again.

 

Rey moved around to the hind leg on the same side.  “I’m going to check your other legs now. Again, please tell me if anything hurts you.”

 

_I will._

 

She couldn’t, wouldn’t hurt him; and it was unbearable to think that she might stop touching him. The sheer amount of need, for touch and presence and love, was overwhelming after so long.  The word “please” hovered at the edges of their communication, not quite “spoken”.

 

That leg, and his other hind leg, were free. But when Rey came to his foreleg on the other side, she found that something WAS wrapped around it; thick and fleshy, like spidery fingers.

 

“Aha!  There IS something holding you in place; you’re tangled what feels like a vine.  I think we can cut it off of you so that we can get your leg dug out of all this muck. It’s strong, though, and this mud is too; we’ll need something…”

 

Rey looked around her and spotted the sword still lying on the ground.  

 

“...SHARP!  That’ll do.”

 

He wasn’t going to be able to pull his legs out of the mud himself, though, even once they were free; he was mired far too thoroughly for that.   Thunder and Flower were strong, and used to pulling heavy carts. The sword would be excellent for cutting through the vine, but it would make a terrible digging tool. Not to mention that it might cut Kylo; that was, after all, what it was for.  There was a shovel at the cottage, as well as some rope that could be fashioned into a harness for the goats.

 

“I think we can do it.  I’ll need some tools, and these two will need to help.”  She waved at the goats, who blinked innocently at her and bleated in response.

 

His eyes opened at the sound.  His head, which had sunk toward the mud as he relaxed under her touch, lifted again.  It was hard to keep thoughts and feelings to himself; to say and...give only what belonged in their conversation.  There hadn’t been a lot of joy in the last several centuries, and it kept trying to escape.

 

_I don’t know how to thank you for what you’re doing._

 

That could mean just her offer to free him; but it didn’t.

 

\--

 

It didn’t take long to go back to the cottage and get what she needed, though the dragon’s sad, entreating eyes gave her some pause.  Once she’d pulled Thunder and Flower out of the dirt soup, she discovered that the farther away they were from the dragon’s snout, the firmer the ground turned out to be.  A few twists of rope and some sweaty work with the shovel later, the two goats were more or less hitched to the dragon’s now-visible legs.

 

“Where do you live when you’re not...here?”   The question was sort of launched up his flank as she huffed and puffed trying to free a forelimb, accompanied by ridiculous squelching noises.

 

_There’s a cave, by the sea.  It’s adequate._

 

“Where is this cave?  You never know when I might need you to light some stubborn kindling.”

 

_Do you know the ruined castle?  On the cliff? There’s a cove, in its shadow.  That’s where I wait._

 

“You mean the haunted castle?  I know it; everyone does. Waiting for what?”  It was four days from here on foot. She’d heard the story.

 

_I don’t remember.  Just waiting. I like to look at the castle; and I don’t.  Haunted is the right word, I think._

 

The shifting was uneasy, and his tone melancholy.  Once his fourth leg was more or less free of the muck, Rey turned to Thunder and Flower, waiting with unusual patience.  

 

“All right, now PULL!”

 

There was a distinct *pop* as they heaved and strained and finally pulled him free.  Rey took a step backward, watching as the dragon stretched and tested his limbs. He was definitely meant to fly, if his awkwardness on land was any indication.

 

After a few clumsy hops, his hind legs bunched, and he jumped into the air.  It didn’t seem very effective, but aided by the beating of his massive wings, now fully unfurled, it was enough to launch him skyward.  

 

_I’m in your debt._

 

Rey found herself shouting into the downdraft of his wings.  

 

“How exactly would I collect? Do you need someone to tend to that cut?  May I visit you? Hey!”

 

His eyes were fixed on her as he ascended, somehow bereft.  As his shape receded, his voice in her head fell quiet. A sense of loss, quickly dwindling as it was dwarfed by ravenous hunger, was her only answer.  It was very unsatisfying.

 

But the sight of his grace and speed as he flew was a confirmation; he belonged in the clouds.  Dragons weren’t meant to be caged, and it warmed her heart to see him fly.

 

Her heart may have been warm; but her feet were freezing.  It was time to go home. Now-plaintive bleats from Thunder and Flower agreed.  They’d done well, and deserved the best of care. Taking hold of the harness, Rey turned the three of them around and trudged back to her cottage.

 

\--

 

Rey had a feeling she couldn’t shake, a strange combination of loss and familiarity, as she hauled out Granny’s old footbath and filled it from the kettle.  Reading before bed had always soothed her, even before she could read and Granny had done it for her. And she knew exactly which story she wanted tonight. It was a story about a dragon, and it had been her favorite ever since she could remember.

 

Rey had insisted, when she was small, that this story was REAL and the man, the dragon, was real too; that he was a prince from the castle on the cliff, the one in the stories everybody told.  Granny had smiled indulgently at her and said that if Rey believed that were true, then it very well might be; that was the way of things in this family. Rey smiled, remembering Granny as she ran her fingers over the beloved pages.  She’d heard stories of other dragons over the years, like the one folk said had destroyed the castle; but the dragon in the book was kind, and sad.

 

The book was large, and messy, and yellowed with the loving wear of years.  It was full of stories, and recipes, and some recipes that were maybe also stories; their family was in it, and some words that said they were spells.  Pages had been torn and put back together, and occasionally pasted atop other pages, until the whole was a delightful hodgepodge, a patchwork of treasures.

 

Warm feet and a story were making her sleepy; today’s labors had been far more exhausting than Rey would have thought.  Eventually she curled her feet up under her and fell asleep right there in Granny’s old overstuffed chair. It wasn’t the first time.  

 

A crash of thunder, not unlike the way Kylo’s roar had sounded, sent her sitting bolt upright in the chair.  Lightning sizzled outside the window of the cottage, and she was reminded of the tingling in her fingers. THE RING.  THE DRAGON. THE STORY WAS REAL. She’d always known it, always. And now she’d found him.

 

It was all she could do to keep herself from pelting off into the driving rain and thunder.  But no, that would have to wait until morning. Granny had always said your own foolishness would kill you faster than anything else in this world.

 

There wasn’t going to be any more sleep, though, so she decided to put her time to good use.  The book was just where she’d left it, on the table next to the comfortable chair; Rey snatched it up and leafed through to the page that said “A Poletyce fore Woundes”.  She supposed what worked for a person couldn’t do a dragon any harm. Though she should probably double--triple--quadruple the recipe? She was going to need the cauldron for this.

 

The old “receipt” said it needed to be applied before it cooled; she’d have to pack the ingredients and the cauldron and haul it all out there in the goat-cart.  Here was hoping Thunder and Flower had gotten a better night’s sleep than she had. Dawn was breaking by the time it was all assembled, along with food and a bedroll, since she had no idea how long she’d be gone.  She hastily scattered feed for the chickens, and left more where they could get at it, enough for the time she’d be gone; everything else could wait.

 

\--

 

There was no one to hear him now.  It was possible no one ever would again.  He was already forgetting the sound of her voice.  His face hurt; he wondered why that was. It didn’t matter.  He was hungry. There were fish.

 

\--

 

Rey was exhausted and impatient after four days on the road, but her heart leapt with the thought that she might be able to see him again, and help him.  Thunder and Flower were most displeased with the state of the road leading to the haunted castle. They made this perfectly plain by glaring over their shoulders at her.  They’d live.

 

Sunset was painting the sky pink when they arrived.  All sorts of unfriendly-looking shadows were draped over the ruined castle.  As they drew closer, it became apparent that some of those weren’t shadows at all; they were scorch marks.  

 

“Oh dear.  No wonder it’s haunted,” she whispered to the goats.  Thunder twitched his ears nervously while Flower danced in place.

 

He’d said his cave was near the castle.  So it only stood to reason that she’d be able to find it from here.  And the story...the story said he needed to remember. Her conviction, when she was small, that the dark, empty castle on the cliff had once been his home, had returned to her.  He might not be a prince; but he was connected to this place. He’d said that he liked to look at it, and he didn’t. That had to mean something.

 

Rey parked the goat-cart and tethered Thunder and Flower to a sapling growing out of the ruined road.  They seemed to be perfectly comfortable with the idea that they would not be going with her. A torch was easy enough to make, but a lot harder to light.  She really HAD needed him. There were as many shadows and scorch-marks inside the castle as there had been outside it; and the building was...sad. It was in the very stones.

 

There had been no evidence of a cave that she could see, on the way here; or really anything to show that this place had ever been alive at all.  Rey slowly explored as many of the rooms as she could, the ones that still had walls and floors. She was examining a huge fireplace in one of the rooms, who knew how it had once been used.  Carved into the stone wall above the mantel was a crest. It was the same as...she pulled the ring from her pocket. It was warm, as though there was already a fire roaring in the hearth; and gleaming just a bit more than could be accounted for by the weakening light.

 

Rey felt compelled to touch the crest, to run her hand over the dragon at its heart.  A grinding noise was the first sign of something _happening_.  The stone of the hearth parted, gradually, as though it had almost forgotten how.  In its place was revealed a small chamber and a set of stairs, leading...well, down.  There was a sort of stone shelf on one wall at the top of the stairs. On it lay three portraits; miniatures.

 

The first was a woman.  Her hair was piled on her head in a complicated arrangement of braids, and her face was regal, but filled with humor.  

 

The second portrait was a man.  He grinned crookedly from the small oval, as if looking forward to a questionable adventure.

 

And the last...was a young man.  His hair was dark, like the man and woman that must be his parents.  Their features had combined in an odd, but somehow pleasing way in his face.  His skin was dotted with beauty marks, and there was the faintest hint of a smile at the corner of his mouth. That would have been more appealing had he not been looking down his nose at whoever had painted his portrait.  The only thing that saved him from complete arrogance were the large and vulnerable-looking ears poking out through his hair. The paint must have cracked with age; there was a jagged line running down his brow and cheek, over one eye, revealing the darkened wood beneath.

 

Obviously she was going to follow the winding stair, as one must.  She took the young man’s portrait with her for reasons she chose not to examine. The trip was thoroughly unpleasant.  The stone steps were slippery, and damp; and there were a truly astonishing number of them.

 

“You know you’re going to have to climb back up all of these again,” she muttered to herself.  Now she really was going mad. Everyone said you had to be, to go talking to yourself.

 

The steps wound and coiled for a ludicrous length; and when Rey reached the bottom of the endless flight, there was...nothing.  Rocks, and dark, and a vague sound of the sea.

 

“Wonderful,” she announced to the stones and dampness.

 

She was answered by the distinct click of claws on stone, and sort of a thud.

 

_You…I remember you._

 

Well, he ought to; it had only been a day.  But he sounded...confused.

 

_Where are you?_

 

“On the other side of an enormous pile of rocks, I think.  You?”

 

_In my cave.  Oh. I blocked the stairs.  I didn’t want to see them._

 

“Would it be too much trouble to, err, unblock them?  There are a LOT of stairs. Wouldn’t it be better if I could just come to you?”

 

_Yes, that would be better.  Stand back. I don’t want to hurt you._

 

She retreated partway up the stone steps.  A scraping noise was followed by a tremendous crash as rocks rained down onto the floor; and there he was.  She could see the wound better now that he wasn’t covered in mud; and he was definitely going to need some help.

 

“Oh, your face!  Does it hurt?” How could it be that those hopeful brown eyes were still more wounded than his face?

 

_A little.  The seawater stung, but it helps._

 

“Let me help you.  I’ve brought what we need.”  She glanced over her shoulder.  “I could use a lift, though. Did I mention there are a lot of stairs?”

 

_Oh.  You mean me.  I.... can do that._

 

“How do I…?  Never mind.” She was not going to ask that question.  Rey put her foot on one of the larger rocks, and then scrambled up his scaly hide. She held onto his...mane?  It hadn’t been visible, there in the mud; but...she looked in her pocket. It was exactly the same color as the young man’s hair.  

 

He was ungainly, as she’d noticed, on the ground.  She clutched his mane as he lurched toward the mouth of the cave.

 

“Am I hurting you?  Is this all right?”  It was the second time in two days she’d asked him that question.

 

_You’re not hurting me at all.  I don’t want you to fall off my back.  Hang on as tightly as you wish._ That thought had a pleased overtone.

 

“How does this work...do you just ju--OH!”  The wind stole her breath as he leapt, and then they were flying, and the sheer joy of it stole everything else.  She could feel that it was entirely mutual.

 

_Flying is the only thing that...was the only thing…_ The thought was unfinished.

 

It was disappointing to find that they’d already reached the cliff-top.  His landings were much more delicate than his takeoffs. It must have something to do with the wings.

 

He sank to his haunches, then lay entirely on the grass and crooked paving stones.  Rey slid from his back; he shivered. The loss of contact, of closeness, stung them both.

 

Thunder and Flower were resigned to his presence by this point; they kept right on chewing the grass growing between the stones, determined to absolutely not notice the giant beast directly behind them.  Rey busied herself collecting wood; she’d need a decent fire. Her tinderbox was already in her hand before she looked back at the dragon and slapped herself in the forehead. The tinderbox was not going to be necessary.

 

“I believe it’s time to collect that debt.  Would you mind?” She smiled at him and waved at the pile of wood.

 

_Of course.  Can you step back again?  Them too. I don’t want to hurt anyone.  Especially you._

 

That probably would be prudent.  Rey led the goats to a low section of wall that was still standing near the road, a bit farther out of the way, and tethered them to a tree growing out of its base.

 

She stayed there, while he started the fire.  He was right; the burst of flame wasn’t very...controlled.  Rey hurried over to stamp out the extra bits of stray fire that had landed in the grass.  Once she had, it was a rather nice fire; perfect for what she needed. The cauldron and the ingredients for the poultice went onto it, along with some water from a nearby stream.

 

_What is that?  It smells...odd._

 

“It’s for your face.  I didn’t think, how badly he might have hurt you.  This will help, but it has to simmer for a while.”

 

_Would you...would you like to fly again?  With me?_

 

“I would love that.  You mean now?”

 

_Yes.  Flying by moonlight is unlike anything else.  You’ll see._ He sounded almost shy.

 

Rey didn’t wait for a second invitation.   “Would you mind stepping over here, by the wall, so I can use it to climb onto your back?”

 

_Of course._  

 

He lumbered over to the section of wall, lay down next to it, and cocked his head so she could easily reach his mane.  Who would have thought that being here, atop a dragon’s back, would give her a feeling that she was where she belonged?  Her heart was racing in anticipation. So was his; she could feel it.

 

He was right. Flying by moonlight was unlike anything else.  She felt like they were part of the sky and the stars. Lights twinkled, reflected in his scales; as though he really were part of it all.  Here on his back again, she could feel his joy along with her own as he caught currents of air, silently gliding, or drove upward with strong beats of his wings.  His experience of flight was open to her, as hers was to him; sometimes she felt as though she were the one with wings. And he was fascinated by the way the night looked through her eyes.

 

The flight was over far too soon for either of their liking, but there was work to do.  He landed lightly in the courtyard.

 

Rey immediately turned to the business of finishing the poultice and straining it into the jars she’d brought.  While it cooled, she thought she’d give the other business at hand a try. She wasn’t really sure what to do, but there was a spell, and there was a story.

 

“Kylo?  May I try something?”

 

_I’m in your hands._

 

The spell was called Restoration.  There were two earlier spells in the book, Homecoming and Returning; but both had notes that said they hadn’t worked. There weren’t any notes that said whether combining spells was all right; but she’d never been very good at following directions.   She’d brought rosemary and forget-me-nots from her garden, they were part of the earlier spells.

 

She’d had a few other ideas about what to add; syringa lilac, for memory, and bluebells, for the humility the young man had badly needed in the story. The ones she’d brought with her were sadly wilted by now; but all of them, she found, were growing here in the courtyard, as though they’d been waiting.  A few pine boughs, for hope in adversity, completed the selection and she wove the flowers into their needles.

 

Next were the words.  “A heart returned to what it was, with lessons learned and memory.  A hope returned, and not alone, to right the wrong that came to be. A life returned, a feeling shared, and one long captive now set free.”

 

He froze in place.  Thoughts and feelings churned through them both.  Had she hurt him? Had she made it worse? What should she do?

 

Memory.  He needed to remember; and in this book was the story of what he had once been.  As she turned the pages, it fell naturally open, as it so often did, to the story of the dragon, the prince from the castle on the cliff.  Rey began to read, her voice taking on the lilting tone she remembered Granny using when she was small. She told him about the young man, and his mistakes; she told him about the witch, and her regret.

 

Rey reached into her pocket to find the ring, solid and now warm as she held it in her palm.  He started to move again as he saw it gleaming in the firelight; one foreleg rose hesitantly, talon extended, and he touched the metal where it rested in her hand.   The ring grew warmer and warmer, uncomfortably hot now against her skin. The gleam she’d seen earlier hadn’t been a trick of the light; the blue stone in the ring was most definitely glowing.

 

It was painful; but she didn’t want to let go.  There was pain for him too; something was changing, and change was always hard.  His talon stayed against her hand, caught within the ring’s circle; but he began to beat his wings in alarm, like a startled falcon.  

 

_What is happening to me?!  Get back, before you get hurt!  Please!_

 

Rey didn’t want to let go, but he’d asked, and the wind of his wings pushed her back across the grass.  Her eyes were streaming with the force of the wind now; the last thing she saw before she was forced to cover them with her hands was a jet of flame.  It was aimed carefully away from her, even now, as he roared. He was frightened.

 

When Rey opened her eyes, she thought at first she’d destroyed him, and her heart sank.  Before her was a cascade of gleaming black and blue scales. There was nothing else.

 

The despair creeping in despite her best efforts was joined by a feeling of surprise.  It wasn’t hers. It wasn’t...she didn’t quite dare to hope what that might mean; but the pile of scales was _moving_.  Smaller scales slid to the grass, and Rey started to dig, pushing the scales aside with her hands.  After a few moments, her search was interrupted as she felt another hand clasp her own. She pulled, and scrambled; and standing in front of her, in the mess, was a man.  The prince. The young man in the portrait. It really had been a good likeness.

 

“Ky...Kylo?”

 

_No….Ben.  I'm Ben._

 

His eyes met hers as she heard his voice for the first time with her ears.

 

“....Rey?”

 

He crumpled to the ground, letting go of her hand, overwhelmed with something she couldn’t quite identify.  She reached to help him stand, to comfort him somehow; They were rushing through her too, centuries of them, and she sank down next to him to hold him in her arms. She needed the comfort almost as much as he did, because the feelings that went with those memories were flowing through her.  The memories themselves came with images, still hazy to her; but the _feelings,_ so much loneliness and fear, were clear and sharp.  

 

He looked at her, his eyes full of pain and hope, but he didn’t speak.  Maybe he couldn’t; but they didn’t need words. He shivered. Oh. He was naked.

 

_Wait here, I’ll be right back._

She wrapped him in the blanket from her bedroll and helped him into the cart.  She tried to make her thoughts as soothing and comforting as she could; and the shivering lessened, a little.  

 

_I’m going to take you back to my home.  I’ll take care of you; don’t worry._

 

He nodded, still unable to speak, or really to think in any coherent way.

 

The goats were soon hitched back up in front; they were unusually subdued.  The cauldron would have to stay until she could come back for it later; but she grabbed one of the jars of poultice.  She wouldn’t need nearly as much of it now.

 

The trip back was fortunately uneventful.  Rey tended to Ben; his name was Ben. She applied the poultice to his wound, fed him herself as they camped in the evenings, and held him as he tried wordlessly to sort through everything that had come back to him. She helped him do things, human things, that he’d forgotten.  And she talked to him as she did, telling him that everything would be all right, and saying his name. He seemed to like that.

 

When they reached the cottage, she helped Ben down from the cart into her home, where she tucked him into bed before lighting a fire and putting on the kettle.  

 

“I’ll be back in a few minutes.  All right?”

 

He looked anxious, but he nodded.

 

Rey unhitched the goats from the cart; they’d been more agitated the closer they got to home.  Thunder and Flower bolted straight for the shed where they stayed at night. She left some grain for them, feeling a little sorry for all the work they’d had to do as she saw they were already asleep, heads together, snoring away.

 

Some more grain for the chickens, who’d worked their way through what she’d left for them, and she could go back to Ben.  He was cold, even under her quilts. She fetched a cloth and some of the water from the kettle and bathed his face, and hands, and his chest, in hopes that it would warm him.  A hunt through Granny’s old chest yielded some of her grandfather’s clothes; Granny had said he was a big man, and this proved to be true.

 

One of his old nightshirts fit Ben reasonably well after she’d dropped it over his head.  She also found a pair of trousers, but left them folded at the foot of the bed; he could put those on when he was feeling better.  Rey crawled in next to him. She could feel that he was still cold, and he needed someone close. Needed _her_ close, she could feel now.  She hummed, just an old song she remembered from when she was a girl.  

 

_I know that tune._ They were the first words she’d heard in the chaos of his mind.  

 

_You sang it before.  Many times. I...like it.  I liked hearing you sing it._

 

The words in her mind were easier, clearer, now that they were close. He felt safe, and less like he might come to pieces.  Pictures came with the thoughts; Rey herself. At first she saw the cottage, from above, like a child’s dollhouse; then it got closer and closer.  So that was what the top of her head looked like. She saw herself, now from nearer and close to the ground, working in the garden, tending to the goats and chickens, and going about her day.   

 

Feelings came with the pictures.  Fascination gave way to alarm; she was stuck.  No, _he_ was stuck; and then there was just resignation, and the feeling you got when you were outside in the cold looking in the window of a warm house.  He’d been right there, and she hadn’t known.

 

“I’m sorry...if I’d known you were there, all alone…” She began to cry, and so did he.

 

_It was better, knowing you were near._

 

Waves of emotion washed over them both.  These were better, though; feelings of safe, and together, and belonging.  Questions would have to wait until tomorrow. They held on tighter, reassuring each other and themselves; they were both asleep before long.

 

\---

Sunlight peeked in through the window.  The light on her face woke Rey; she looked beside her and found that a bar of sunlight had fallen over Ben’s face.  His wound was healing nicely; it would scar, but that was all right. It didn’t detract one bit. In fact, it only added interest, and made her want to look at him more; much like the gold streak she’d seen in the stone set into the ring.  She reluctantly got out of bed and went to stir up the fire. A cup of tea would do them both a world of good.

 

As the tea was brewing, Rey was gripped by panic.  She looked back at the bed to see him frantically searching for her; wild eyes locked with hers and the panic receded.

 

“It’s all right, Ben.  I’m just making tea. I’ll be back with you in no time.  I’m not going anywhere.”

 

She brought the cups back to the bed and crawled right back in beside him.  He could hold the cup himself this time.

 

“...thank you, Rey.”  His voice was almost as deep as the dragon’s had been in her head, but rusty with disuse.

 

She smiled at him.  “You’re very welcome, Ben.  And I mean that. You’re welcome here as long as you like.”

 

“I...don’t deserve your kindness.  Or your care.”

 

She put down her teacup and took his hand, about to interrupt him with a protest; but she was immediately buried under an avalanche of guilt, fear, anger, and helplessness, all tangled up together.  There were pictures with this too; the hazy images she’d seen when he’d come back to himself were clear now, and they filled her with horror. He’d destroyed so much; so many people! She could feel hunger, rage, and hatred; but under them sadness and self-loathing.  The next image showed her that his hatred and his rage hadn’t been turned on those he destroyed.

 

Rey saw an old man, decrepit with unnatural age. There was no love in that one. He was yellow and wizened and scarred, the evil in his heart written visibly on his face.  And along with his image came pain. Whenever he did not do as he was told, pain. Whenever he tried to leave; agony.

 

Ben could hear the wizard (for so he was, of course) telling everyone he’d saved them from the crazed beast.  Inside his head, though, the words were different.

 

_You are mine; I own you, and you will do as you are bid,_ had come the commands in his mind.   _You are Kylo.  You will be Kylo Ren, now and forever._ Over and over, until Ben believed it; until he was Kylo even to himself.

 

At first it was simple.  Fly over this place, look frightening, then flee when you’re ordered to go.  Before long the wizard had grown greedy, and he was ordered to destroy. To burn.  To kill. This had gone on for a very long time, until one day the wizard had simply been gone; Ben still didn’t know why.  He’d been glad to be free, but he remembered every single part of what had come before; and Rey’s heart broke for him.

 

“It wasn’t your fault, Ben.  He controlled you. He enslaved you.  He took your _name_.”

 

He’d taken more than that.  The last images, before Ben doubled over sobbing into his hands, were the same castle on the cliff, drowned in flames.

 

“Oh, Ben.”  There was nothing else she could say, so she just held him until he was finished crying.  She knew these would not be the last tears he shed; but she could feel that these tears were the beginning of his healing.  He’d been arrogant, and proud. But he had paid, and paid, and paid; and he deserved something new, something good. Rey was determined to be a part of that.  She went back to her wordless song, rocking him as he wept.

 

They were interrupted again; this time by a knock on the door.  

 

“Ben?  I don’t know what that is, but no one knocks here.  I’d better answer it. Will you be all right?”

 

He nodded, but she could sense that he was worried for her.  She heard a soft sound of cloth behind her. By the time she’d reached the door, he’d donned the trousers and padded barefoot across the floor to walk behind her, a solid presence at her back.

 

She was sure it was some sort of reprisal from the estate next door.  Rey snatched up a frying pan on her way to the door and raised it over her head after lifting the latch.

 

She was confronted by two embarrassed, bewildered, and now somewhat frightened people; a man and a woman.  They were also thoroughly nude, with bits of hay sticking up from their hair.

 

“....sorry,” creaked the man outside the door.  “I don’t quite know where I am. Or who I am. Do you?  Who are you? Is this your house?

 

“Ssshh, Finn.  Oh. You’re Finn.  Wait, who am I?” That was the woman, who was a little more calm, but still very, very confused.  She put a hand on the man’s arm.

 

“You’re...Rose.  And I love you.” He appeared to be stunned by his own declaration.

 

Rose’s face was soft.  “Apparently I love you too.”

 

Rey was frozen, mouth agape, frying pan still over her head, watching this very interesting conversation.

The man looked at her.  “This is very strange. I think last night I was a goat.”

 

Rey goggled at him.  He did rather smell like one.  But the eyes...the pupils weren’t rectangles any more; but those were…

 

“Thunder?!”  She glanced at the woman, whose hair did sort of resemble the curls at the base of the other goat’s neck.  “Flower?!”

 

Flower...no, Rose, looked thoughtful.  “No. But I was. Wait, why was I a goat?”

 

Finn...she’d said Finn...looked off to one side, then his eyes widened and he blushed.  “Oh boy. I think I know. Rose, what’s the last thing you remember?”

 

It was Rose’s turn to blush, a bright scarlet.  

 

“I...we were...OH.”  She looked at the floor, then grinned at Finn.  “We snuck into the shed to, err, be alone. And that old woman...she was angry.  She said…” The sentence trailed off.

 

“She said  ‘ _If you’re going to rut like goats, you might as well BE goats_.’  And, and then we were. How long...Rose, how long has it BEEN?!”  He was looking a little panicky around the eyes.

 

Rose put her hand on his cheek and shook her head.  “It doesn’t matter. We’re together; and I have a feeling anyone who objected is long gone, Finn.  We can just be us.”

 

A smile slowly spread across his face; and hers too.  They were very nice smiles, both of them.

 

Rey, remembering the frying pan, gradually lowered it.  Ben was holding her around the waist, still nervous about the intruders.  

 

When she found her tongue again, Rey complained through gritted teeth, “Well, THAT explains a lot.”  She looked heavenward. “Granny, you have a lot to answer for.”

 

She looked at the two lovers.  “All I can tell you is that it hasn’t been more than three generations; if that’s any consolation.”  She found herself blushing this time. “Clothes. First, clothes for everybody.”

 

Grandfather’s clothes didn’t fit Finn very well; and Rose was tiny, so she swam in Granny’s dress.  But it would do for now.

 

Finn gasped.  “Rose, we need to go see whether our families are still there!”

 

Rose picked a bit of hay out of her ear.  “Agreed. But could we at least have a wash first?”

 

Rey gave them a bucket of hot water and the privacy of the shed.  They returned, clean and suspiciously happy, after a while, to announce that they were off to seek their homes.  Rey’s heart went out to them, but she was a little relieved that they wouldn’t be staying. She would have invited them to stay, under normal circumstances, but there was absolutely nothing normal about any of this.  

 

She would have enough going on with helping a former dragon find himself again.  But Rey wished them well and told them she hoped to see them again someday.  She and Ben both walked out to the garden to wave as Finn and Rose went on their way; he kept his arms wrapped around her waist and his head tucked down against her, as though unwilling yet to face the world.

 

Ben lifted his head from her shoulder.  “Are they gone?”

 

Rey turned to put her arms around him, there in the sunlight and the scent of growing things.  “Yes.  It’s just us now. You’re not alone.”  She felt it was important to tell him that.

 

He was silent for a few heartbeats.  “Neither are you.”

 

Oh.  She _had_ been alone.  All this time.  And now, neither of them would ever have to be again.

 

                                                                   

 

~The End~

 

…….or is it the Beginning?

**Author's Note:**

> There are notes, but first a few important thank yous:
> 
> Thank you, La_Catrina, for the wonderful prompts! I hope you are pleased by what I did with them, and I really hope you don’t mind the brief appearance of a certain ginger-haired villain. It was extremely entertaining to, err, dispatch him in this story.
> 
> I love to come up with stories, but writing them down does not come easily to me. This story would not have been completed in time (and possibly not at all) if not for my beloved friend and beta, [ LoveThemFiercely](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LoveThemFiercely/pseuds/LoveThemFiercely%E2%80%9D), who is the ultimate Story Midwife. She reminded me to keep breathing; held my hand and told me to keep pushing when I felt like giving up (and I did); and spent many hours writing with me in Starbucks as this Fic Baby was sloooowly birthed into the world. She helped me find words when I had none, and then made them better. I cannot thank her enough for everything she did. She has several absolutely amazing stories on Ao3 and I highly encourage everyone to go find them and get lost in her beautifully descriptive writing and stellar characterizations. 
> 
> Special thanks also go to sunbug1138 and leoba  
> for being incredibly generous and enthusiastic commenters; encouragers; hurlers of wonderful ideas; writers of truly amazing stories; all around brilliant ladies; and thoroughly lovely friends. You’re the best!  
> And a HUGE thank you to everyone who clicked on this story and made it this far! I would love to hear from you in the comments.
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> NOTES: 
> 
> As I was researching dragon myths and lore, I ran across a very obscure story; the title of which gave me goosebumps for very obvious reasons. I immediately knew I’d found the _perfect_ thing to turn into a Reylo fairy tale. Here is the “real” Blue Ben, courtesy of Wikipedia: 
> 
> _Various versions of the story exist, but the account usually features Blue Ben as dwelling in the shale caves along the Somerset coast, regularly bathing in the nearby waters to cool himself after breathing fire. In order to avoid getting stuck in the extensive mud flats between the water and his lair, he built the limestone causeway there to provide him safe passage._
> 
> _The devil used to watch Blue Ben, and one day decided to capture him for use as a mount. The devil rode him mercilessly through the fires of hell until the dragon escaped, and, in the hurry to get back to the security of his lair, he made the mistake of tramping through the mud flats, and getting stuck in the mud, which gradually consumed him. An alternative version of the story says that he lived inland but went to Kilve to cool off._
> 
> As I said way up there in the tags, there is an **enormous** amount of back-story to this story. Time constraints and a desire to keep this story as Reylo focused as possible meant that a lot of material had to be cut. If you’d like to know more details about the ring; the evil wizard; cursed mud; who Mitaka was going to be; or anything else at all; please do not hesitate to throw questions to me in the comments! I would be delighted to answer them.


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